


Good to Me

by sunenthusiast



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minghao is SO sweet, Mingyu is even sweeter, One Shot, Professional Cock-Blockers Dk and Hoshi, consent is essential kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunenthusiast/pseuds/sunenthusiast
Summary: Minghao couldn’t believe he let a stranger into his home. A drunk one. He knew better. The whole time the man was in his bathroom, Minghao imagined all the ways in which this was not a good idea. On the one hand, he could have very well have let a murderer into his home—though unlikely, he never knew—and on the other hand, he could be stuck dealing with a giant drunk baby, which was not that uncommon when living above a bar in a university town, but Minghao didn’t make a habit of letting everyone who drunkenly knocks on his door in.Or, that time Mingyu got lost trying to find the bathroom and ended up finding a lot more.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 22
Kudos: 180





	Good to Me

**Author's Note:**

> here's a few things:  
> 1\. this is my first fic ever  
> 2\. mingyu is a sweet boy who needs love and is a little spoon this is my hill and i will die on it  
> 3\. did this instead of my three papers and had an existential crisis. bon appetite.

It was the ephemeral tensions he was told about—the swirling cacophony of emotions pulled tight like a rope as it was raised above the profane and shifted beyond the beautiful—it became the scared; it became the sublime. And he was helplessly enthralled with it taking the form of the stranger’s neck. 

“You’re drunk.” He stated, plainly. 

Maybe. But Mingyu wasn’t too perturbed by this fact. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve seen you around campus.” 

The stranger’s eyes widened at that. If Mingyu had been sober, maybe he would have realized how odd and, frankly, creepy this whole interaction was but he wasn’t sober, and intentionality got lost in the soup that was his mind. He didn’t notice the stranger’s position change to defensive as he asked: “How? It’s a big campus.”

If it were ever possible for Mingyu to lie, he would have in that moment, but he was incapable and drunk Mingyu had left his filter somewhere between the bar and the stairwell. “Not many people have a mullet and make it look hot,” Mingyu said with a shrug and was momentarily proud of the pink blush that spread across the stranger’s cheeks. “Besides, I went to Soonyoung’s showcase and saw you guys perform together. You’re really good. Great. Like, super cool. Really pretty, mullet boy—”

“Minghao,” The stranger, Minghao, said.

Mingyu grinned. “Really pretty, Minghao.” 

And there was that blush again. Mingyu vaguely registered the warmth blossoming in his chest when he realized he wanted to make Minghao blush all the time if he could. He opened his mouth to try to do so when a pressing matter re-entered his mind with all the force of a windstorm, the whole reason he came upstairs at all—he needed a bathroom _immediately right now oh my god._ “Nice to officially meet you!” Mingyu said while backing away on shaky legs. “I have to go—”

Minghao scrunched up his face in confusion but said nothing. Mingyu wasn’t too sure why he wanted the other to ask either, but as he tried to exit the hallway, he realized he didn’t know where he was going. Mingyu returned to Minghao’s door, a sheepish smile painted across his face. “This is awkward, but I was looking for a bathroom and I’m a little lost, which is why I’m here and not in a bathroom, obviously, and so I was wondering which door actually leads back to the bar. I’m sure I’ll find it, but I can’t seem to remember. Completely embarrassing though. I’m sorry, I’m just going to go figure it out, can’t be too difficult—”

Mingyu’s voice was muffled by the hand that Minghao slotted over his mouth. “You speak too much,” Minghao said. “Just use mine.” He opened up his door a little wider, making space for Mingyu to follow him. Mingyu’s heart leapt around in his chest at the act of kindness. From that moment onward, Mingyu knew he wanted to see Minghao again, somehow. He hoped that his name and this moment didn’t get lost in his muddled mind. He wanted to remember the kindness of the pretty mullet boy. 

Minghao couldn’t believe he let a stranger into his home. A drunk one. He knew better. The whole time the man was in his bathroom, Minghao imagined all the ways in which this was not a good idea. On the one hand, he could have very well have let a murderer into his home—though unlikely, he never knew—and on the other hand, he could be stuck dealing with a giant drunk baby. This was not actually that uncommon when living above a bar in a university town, but Minghao didn’t make a habit of letting everyone who drunkenly knocks on his door in. Junhui, of course, was an exception to the rule because he didn’t really leave that much room for argument, especially when Minghao was desperate to hear another soul speak Mandarin. He had befriended the bubbly man instantly, but this stranger was not Junhui and Minghao was nervous. 

While he was thinking just steps away from the bathroom door, the stranger exited looking rather…clear-headed, opposite to what Minghao expected. The tall ( _handsome_ ) stranger gave him a dopey grin and Minghao found himself making his way closer to him with no real plan on what to do. Thankfully, the stranger made that decision for him when he tried to wobble away to the door. For all the legs he had, they served him no use when he tried to walk, and Minghao caught him by the arm, gently leading him to the exit. Minghao had the urge to ask the stranger for his number, just to make sure he would make it back to his home okay, but he swallowed the request down with all of his worries. He was conflicted, as he was with most of his late-night university interactions. 

The stranger leaned all too heavily on Minghao’s shoulder as they stood in the doorway, Minghao struggling slightly under the weight. “Thank you, Hao!” The stranger said loudly, causing Minghao to wince and lean away. “You are so kind! A sweet man.” The stranger gripped onto the doorframe to stabilize himself, enough to face Minghao with a sort of look that had him gulping. It was a serious gaze, only slightly unfocused. Minghao found himself holding his breath. 

But then the stranger stood right there, impossibly large, cupped his cheeks in his big and warm hands, and kissed Minghao’s forehead. When he pulled away, he looked pleased with his handiwork. 

“There,” He said proudly. “Better. Everyone deserves a goodnight kiss before bed! Goodnight pretty mullet boy!” And with that, he wobbled away, leaving Minghao dumbfounded in his own hallway, a cherry lip tint stain in the shape of the stranger’s lips right in the middle of his forehead. His cheeks were flushed a similar shade to the new mark as he watched the door swing closed. 

It was only after standing there for a solid five minutes did he realize that he never caught the stranger’s name. 

It took another few minutes for him to realize why that bothered him. 

The whole night was odd. He figured he would tell Junhui in the morning. He shook his head before resuming his nightly activity of knocking the fuck out. 

As the weekend rolled through turning into the week, assignments and practices dominated Minghao’s waking moments, his focus trained on success. He believed he had forgotten about the stranger, but in the moments between wake and sleep, the stranger’s face would pop up in his mind saying polite things to him, his smile blinding. Minghao found himself wanting to see the stranger again, for whatever reason. Maybe it was because he was new and interesting. Maybe it was because he wasn’t put off by Minghao’s accent. Maybe it’s because he complimented Minghao’s dancing. 

So maybe he hadn’t wanted to forget.

So maybe his eyes lingered on crowds moving through campus a little longer now that he was looking for someone. A stranger with beautiful tanned skin, a smile sweeter than syrup, and style to rival a model. A stranger with a gentle soul and a face to match—he was memorable, and Minghao hoped he would see him again. 

His current spot of lamentation was the floor of the dance studio. Why was he so disappointed in not seeing a stranger again? He asked this question to Junhui, who was perched beside him against the glass. 

“Fate,” He offered unhelpfully, to which Minghao rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re sad because he was hot and you’re a lonely motherfucker who needs to get laid.”

“Need is a strong word,” Minghao grumbled. 

“Your _lust_ is strong,” Junhui said. “So, you want to jump his bones but also want to be cuddled with after too and have cute dates and shit, but you don’t want to ask him. Is that it?”

“Shut—”

“Or you do want to ask him which is why you want to find him and also why you’ve been moping because you can’t find him! Either way, this dude must be super hot for you to want to come out of your shell like this.” 

Now that, Minghao could agree with. “He’s very beautiful,” Minghao said carefully. “But he is very sweet. He even called me pretty and said I’m a great dancer.”

There was a weighty pause before Junhui asked: “Did you dance for him?”

“No, no. He said that he was at our showcase last year to watch Soonyoung and—”

“Oh my god, Minghao, you’re a fucking idiot,” Junhui said, sounding exasperated, and leaned back to yell: “Yo, Soonyoung! Who’s your tall beautiful friend?”

Ah. Minghao was an idiot. Soonyoung, who was on the opposite end of the room and very confused, came closer to the resting pair. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, who’s your tall friend?”

Soonyoung fixed them with a blank stare and deadpanned: “You’re gonna have to be more specific, there’s more than one.”

“Really?” Junhui asked, earning him a quick flick to the head. “Ow. Okay, fine. Who’s your tall and beautiful friend? Sweet too.”

“Oh. Seokmin.”

“No. Stop projecting. Who’s your tall, hot, tanned, babbling, idiot friend?” 

“I would still say Seokmin,” Soonyoung said, a bit wistfully, and Minghao felt the urge to gag. “But if we’re talking, like, offensively hot, that’d be Mingyu. Why do you ask?”

Unfortunately, Junhui answered for Minghao, who was having a hard time keeping track of the conversation. “Minghao wants to fuck him.”

“Yeah, you and all of campus,” Soonyoung said. “How do you know Mingyu?”

“I don’t.” Minghao answered at the same time Junhui said: “When he broke into Hao’s house.”

Soonyoung’s expression lit up at that. “Oh, that was you! Mingyu told me about that! I should have guessed that pretty mullet boy was you.”

Minghao was blushing furiously at this point. “He told you about me?”

“Oh yeah. He was some kind of embarrassed the next morning. He kept asking if it was weird for him to go to your place and drop off some homemade apology cookies.”

“No weirder than him kissing Hao’s forehead,” Junhui offered.

“That’s what I said!” Soonyoung laughed. “But under all of that tanned muscular perfection and dazzling smile, there’s a chicken.”

Minghao wanted desperately for this conversation to be done. He was secretly happy that Mingyu remembered him but was mostly embarrassed. As Junhui laughed heartily, Minghao asked quietly, “Do you think he would want to see me again?” God. His found sounded so small and fragile. Vulnerable. He hated it and yet he couldn’t stop it.

Soonyoung seemed to notice this and his expression softened. “Hao, I know he wants to.” 

The second time it happened, Minghao wasn’t expecting it. He was deep in his music practicing new choreography (read: an unfinished dance piece), so intent on fixing his step and perfecting the move that he almost missed the doorbell ringing. He would’ve ignored it had it not been one in the morning. There were only two people who ever rang his doorbell: the delivery person (he hadn’t ordered anything) and Junhui (who had a tendency to ring the doorbell seventeen times in a row), and this ring was neither of those things. He was intrigued. 

Panting heavily, he turned down his music as he walked over to the door, opening it with his signature scowl seemingly cemented in place. The scowl gave way to the sight of Mingyu swaying gently back and forth to the music in his doorway. Minghao immediately reached out a hand to steady him, which was unnecessary, trying not to smile dopily at him. 

“Pretty mullet boy,” Mingyu said, looking down at Minghao and then the hand on his chest, which Minghao retracted quickly. “I’ve missed you.” Mingyu fixed him with a toothy grin, his bright eyes scanning up and down Minghao’s body…not quite hungrily, but curious. Minghao was suddenly very aware of how sweaty he was, his hair plastered to his face and his baggy shirt clinging to his skin where it touched. As much as Minghao minded, Mingyu didn’t seem at all bothered by the sweat as he leaned into his space. His cologne was fresh, Minghao noted, taking his time to look at the taller. He also thought, briefly, how it was unfair that Mingyu made even a pair of plain jeans and a white t-shirt look good—a stark contrast to his previous going-out look. 

“Mingyu,” Minghao breathed. “What are you doing?” The _here_ was left unsaid, but both of them heard it.

“My friends dragged me here, I got drunk, and I got bored,” He said with a shrug. “Wanted to see you again.”

“You’re just saying that because you are drunk,” Minghao said, feigning exasperation. Internally, his heart was soaring. 

“Maybe,” He admitted. “Not so much anymore. And only because I’d be too scared to tell you otherwise.”

His damn heart leapt around in his chest at that. “Why?”

It was Mingyu’s turn to blush, which delighted Minghao even more. “Because, you know, you’re just…” He bit his lip, looking down at the ground, ears as red as a tomato. “You’re just really breathtaking.”

Minghao felt warmth spread down his chest at that. He was so sweet for praise that this one genuine compliment hit him hard. He felt like a livewire, frayed at the edges. He once again found himself unsure of where to go from there. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” Minghao said, his voice steadier than it felt. 

And when Mingyu finally looking at him straight on, it felt like a punch to the gut that Minghao couldn’t curl away from. “I ought to say it if it’s true,” He said it so sincerely that Minghao almost groaned. God, Junhui was right. It had been ages. 

Maybe it was the hour, maybe it was the man, but Minghao was bewitched, tentatively asking: “Do you need to go back to your friends?”

“Honestly? Yes,” Mingyu said. “But I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” He said, faster than he had intended. He didn’t want this to end. He needed more time with Mingyu. “Stay for some tea.”

That caught Mingyu off guard. He looked over Minghao once more before asking cautiously: “Am I interrupting you? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy.”

“Mingyu, it’s one in the morning and I’ve just invited you in for tea,” Minghao said. He was grinning stupidly at this point as he opened his door wider. “Stop being so damn considerate and get in here before I change my mind.” 

It was an empty threat, but it seemed to do the trick as Mingyu followed Minghao into his home. He gestured to the couch for Mingyu to have a seat and watched, bewildered at how such a large man could make himself look so small. The taller sat in the corner with his knees tucked up against his chest, hands folded on top, and his chin resting as he stared expectantly at Minghao. Minghao felt extremely exposed but ignored that feeling as he put the kettle on the stove. Having a studio apartment was good until there were no walls to hide behind, especially when making tea for a guest. Minghao cleared his throat. “What kind would you like?”

Mingyu kept his lazy smile as he pushed his light brown hair off his forehead making Minghao think that he belonged on a beach somewhere. Someplace where the salt from the sea would cause his hair to curl and his tan to get darker, standing out against light clothes as he lounged in the sand, the sun illuminating him making him glow. He was picturesque and Minghao was the photographer. “I’ll have whatever you are,” Mingyu said. His voice was low and raspy, so much so that Minghao was sure that if they were on the beach somewhere, his voice would get swallowed by the waves crashing down at their feet. 

Minghao set about making his late-night ginseng tea, letting the idle daydream of Mingyu modelling for him lead him around. He wondered if Mingyu would pose for him. He would be such a good model. The artist within knew exactly how Mingyu would looking in various settings, clothes, and makeup. Imagining Mingyu staring at him through the lens of the camera made his skin tingle. As he poured the sufficiently steeped tea into his (only) two mugs, he wondered why this man had such a profound impact on him. Even though they had barely spoken or see one another, Minghao somehow could feel (the pull of him, magnetic, intrinsic, dragging Minghao to him no matter what.) that they simply worked, like another piece slipping into place. Mingyu was safe and genuine and Minghao hadn’t realized that he had been missing that from his life. No matter if they became anything or not, he could sense that Mingyu would influence his life. 

And shockingly, that thought only made him feel safer. 

“Be careful. It’s hot,” He said, handing the mug to Mingyu, who accepted it graciously, as Minghao took a seat on the other side of the couch. They spent a few blissful moments in silence, sipping at their teas appreciatively. Minghao’s playlist ran through lowly in the background, the deep beats beginning to mix with the muffled sounds of the bar below. The bass and the new attention were thrumming in his veins making his fingers twitch against the mug. He felt too aware, too alert, as he heard Mingyu hum against his mug, his lips curved around the edge of it as he took another sip. It was too much. He wondered if Mingyu felt the same. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Mingyu murmured. He said it so quietly, as if to not disturb the energy they had built around them. 

Minghao blinked at him, owlish. “What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Anything,” He said genuinely. “Whatever you want to share with me.”

Minghao was taken aback at that. It took him a long time to open up to anyone. In that respect, he was glad Mingyu left him the space to choose what he could say, instead of being forced to answer invasive questions. Still, Minghao struggled with where to begin, the practiced phrase falling easily from his mouth. “Please be patient. Sometimes it takes me a little while to find my words.” Mingyu didn’t seem phased, gesturing for Minghao to continue. And so, he did.

He told him about his family back home, about his parents who encouraged him to explore and to try new things, about his passions in dance and photography. He spoke about his friends—Junhui, the team, of whom he was grateful for—and the struggles of being an international student who lives alone. He told Mingyu his age, his favourite song, and even his budding talents in painting. He surprised himself with how much he was willing to share with the other, but it didn’t feel wrong. Mingyu never once interrupted him nor tried to fill in the blanks for him when he stumbled on words, only ever patiently waiting for the stories. Minghao was relieved. Once he had finished, he looked at Mingyu’s face and immediately wished he hadn’t—Mingyu was staring at him so openly, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, stars dancing in his eyes, as he was looking at Minghao as if he were something worth revering. And Minghao didn’t know what to do with that. 

He blushed, suddenly shy. “Thank you for listening.”

Mingyu seemed to blink himself out of his reverie, slightly to Minghao’s dismay. “Thank you for sharing,” He said, again far too honestly for Minghao’s heart to take. “I like listening to you. You always say such interesting things, poetically too, and your accent is nice. I like how you look when you speak about dance. Your love is visible.”

“Do you say these things because you want me to hear them or because you simply can?” Minghao asked, incredulously. He was sure the blush had spread to his ears and chest by now. 

“Both,” Mingyu replied, a cheeky grin making its way across his face. Minghao tried to scowl at that but failed miserably. “Is that what you were doing before I came?”

“What was?”

“Dance.”

“Oh.” Minghao forgot for a moment that he was in his dance gear and was supposed to be choreographing for his showcase. He had forgotten he answered the door physically panting and sweating. He was glad that Mingyu came to that conclusion on his own. “Yes. I was working on a dance.”

If looking at a reverent Mingyu was hard, it was nothing compared to an excited Mingyu. His happiness and curiosity were blinding. Minghao felt like he couldn’t stare for too long, but he also couldn’t tear his gaze away. He almost wanted to return the kind words about how Mingyu was someone he was inexplicably drawn to and that Minghao wanted to know so much more, but the words died on his tongue as Mingyu asked something that made his breath catch in his chest:

“Will you show me?”

It was inevitable. Minghao’s mind and body both screamed _yes_. He lived for the attention on his body when he performed, moving to a routine only he knew. He knew Mingyu would be a good audience—he craved the praise given when performing his craft and Mingyu had already proven to be good at giving it—but he was worried. He had already exposed himself to Mingyu through words, a space where most of his discomfort laid. He wasn’t sure if he could do the same through movement too. It was where he was most comfortable and he would be sharing it, unfinished and raw, with Mingyu. He opened his mouth to say something but the wonder radiating from Mingyu was enough to stop him. He simply nodded, walking over to his speakers to start the playlist over again.

“It’s not finished yet,” He said. He tried not to focus on the way Mingyu mouthed _it’s okay_ and clasped his hands excitedly in his lap, lips stretched into a wide smile, as Minghao mentally readied himself to perform, turning the volume dial up until all he could hear was the bass. 

The opening notes hit his ears and his eyes shut, body reacting to what it knew. He moved without thought, memory taking him from movement to movement with practiced ease. He felt the strain in his legs, muscles burning from repeating the steps, his chest constricting. It was fast and then slow, moving with the tempo, following the bass. He moved in tandem, his heartbeat thrumming along to the feeling in the floor under his feet. He twisted, body arching sharply as he neared the end of the routine. His knees hit the floor, his arm cast across his eyes, as he rolled his hips and then came to a halt, the music continuing on without him. It couldn’t have been longer than a minute, but he was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his temples as he let his arm fall to his side, eyes readjusting to the glow of the living room lamp. He turned his attention to Mingyu, who was staring at him with less reverence and more hunger. He had leaned forward in his spot, feet planted firmly on the ground, and his chest rising and falling along with Minghao’s. 

Minghao knew this look. He felt it too as he looked at Mingyu, unmoving. The tension was wrought tightly between them, so much so that neither dared to move, lest it snap. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to snap yet. 

“Wow,” Mingyu breathed. His fingers had dug hard into the material of his pant leg. 

Minghao wasn’t shy anymore, which is what he was afraid of. He felt pride swell in his chest. Still panting, he asked, “Do you dance?”

“No.” The response was instant, his voice gravelly and almost pained. “But you make me want to.” 

Minghao groaned deep in his throat as he moved forward on his knees to kneel in front of Mingyu, who was still staring, his pupils blown wide and his breathing rapid. He could see Mingyu’s knuckles turning white from gripping his legs so tightly and he curled his hands around Mingyu’s to unclench them. Minghao felt Mingyu’s shaky breath wash over him and he shuddered, never breaking eye contact. He felt electric, energetic, his skin tingling every time he felt Mingyu twitch under him. He had the power, and he put the ball in Mingyu’s court, and they both knew it. Minghao shifted his hands from Mingyu’s to grip his thighs, as if to say, “your turn.”

Mingyu gasped, his body jutting forward at the new touch. Minghao felt hazy, lost in this moment, grounded only by his hands on Mingyu. He absent-mindedly began to smooth the material of his jeans out under his palms, inching his hands up higher after each downstroke. His breath hitched in his chest as he got closer, Mingyu’s legs opening to make space for Minghao’s body. And when Minghao’s thumbs grazed over Mingyu’s hipbones through the shirt, Mingyu lurched forward, pulling himself flush against Minghao’s chest, grabbing his face and tilting him up to press their foreheads together, their noses touching. “Please,” Mingyu gasped, as if every touch from Minghao was burning him, and it was intoxicating. Minghao felt drunk on his touch, wanting so badly to close the gap between them and crawl into his lap to kiss him so deeply they both would shudder. “Please, Hao, please. Take what you want from me, please—” Mingyu said, his breath ghosting over Minghao’s lips. He smelled of vodka.

Minghao tried to pull back, clarity breaking through as he raised his hands to hold Mingyu’s wrists. “You’re drunk,” He said.

“Not anymore,” Mingyu said, almost desperately. 

“We still shouldn’t.” 

“No.” He sounded disappointed but didn’t press. “But something about you wants me to ignore it all and do it anyway.”

Minghao felt the same, but he knew he had to pull away. Guilt crawled up his spine for initiating this, for putting them in this situation. For the second time, he curled his hands around Mingyu’s and pulled them away from his face as he stood up, still in the space between Mingyu’s legs. Minghao cupped his jaw, this time tilting Mingyu’s face up, watching his confusion melt into acceptance as a kiss was pressed to his forehead. 

“There,” He said, smiling softly. “Better. No one should go to bed without a goodnight kiss.”

A hearty laugh bubbled out of Mingyu at that and Minghao felt better than he had in a while. He tapped Mingyu’s nose lightly with his knuckle. “Now, finish your tea and text your friends to let them know that you’re safe,” He said. “You can stay here if you want.”

It quickly became a tradition after that—Mingyu would go out with his friends Friday night, plod upstairs to Minghao’s apartment, stay up exchanging stories or watching movies together, and always ended with Mingyu falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes in the mornings they would go out for breakfast or lounge about until it was time for Minghao to go to practice. It was a routine that he looked forward to every Friday night. Gradually Mingyu would stop drinking with his friends and would start coming to Minghao’s sober. He said it was because he was playing the responsible friend for once, but Minghao didn’t think that was entirely true. Neither of them would address the real reason why and he couldn’t help but to wonder. 

Mingyu was due to come around at eleven, which was ideal for Minghao who could barely keep his eyes open. He got home after classes and collapsed onto his couch simply because it was closer to the door than his bed. He had been drilled senselessly this week, trying to function on three hours of sleep per night in order to accommodate for the number of projects and practice he had to do during the day. He was withering away slowly, just like every other student. He had gotten home at seven, giving him ample time to get a nap in before Mingyu got there. He set his alarm for two hours and promptly knocked out. 

When he next came to, he was awoken by the smell of chicken. He couldn’t remember if his alarm had gone off or not and he laid there blearily looking around his apartment trying to figure out what was going on, coming up short. He groaned and pushed his face back into the cushion under him. 

“Welcome back, Hao,” Mingyu said from somewhere. When Minghao looked up again he could make out the shape of Mingyu standing in his kitchen. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while blindly trying to locate his glasses. He heard Mingyu huff out a laugh before the taller padded over to him to put his glasses in his hands. 

“Thanks,” Minghao said, sitting up and putting them on. Mingyu was standing in front of him donning an apron covered in what Minghao hoped was flour. He scrunched his face up in confusion. “I have so many questions.”

“Ask away.”

“First one, where were my glasses?” He asked, rubbing his temples. 

“On the floor. Next.”

“Who let you in?”

Mingyu fixed him with an odd stare. “You let me in. You mumbled something about disliking surprises and then collapsed back onto the couch. I don’t even think your eyes were open. Wow, you must have been tired if you don’t remember that.”

“I _am_ tired,” Minghao corrected. “Last question: What are you doing?”

“Making us dinner,” He said. “I figured you hadn’t eaten after dance and could use some good home cooked food instead of the prepackaged stuff for a change.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Minghao muttered. 

“Maybe, but someone has to eat all this food that I made and I’m not going to waste it on Soonyoung when you’re right here,” Mingyu said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Before Minghao could protest, his stomach growled so loudly that Mingyu heard it. He laughed again and Minghao felt like he could melt into the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Mingyu plated the food—a meal of spicy chicken stew—while Minghao fumbled around his barren cupboards for wine glasses and settled for the two plastic cups he stole from the dining hall in first year. They sat on the floor between the couch and the kitchen, their plastic cups and paper plates balanced on their laps while the dessert baked in the oven. Minghao suggested actually sitting on the couch instead of the floor, but Mingyu dismissed that idea with the claim that he had to sit as close to the cookies as possible to make sure they turned out perfect. Minghao reminded him that he lived in a studio apartment and that he could see the oven from everywhere but from behind the shower curtain, but it fell on deaf ears. Minghao found himself falling a little bit harder for Mingyu every time in moments like these. 

They ate quietly, their hunger more prominent than the need to speak, and Minghao decided after the first bite that he would marry Mingyu for his cooking skills alone. He would praise Mingyu later and find a way to repay him, he thought to himself as he sipped at his wine. The taste was bitter and unpleasant, much in the way that grocery store wine typically was, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. After they were both pleasantly full and the cookies had been saved from Minghao’s “fucked up demon oven” they moved to the couch. The shitty wine was buzzing in their systems, enough to relax from the week but not enough to pave the way to drunkenness, and Minghao felt good. 

“What do you want to do?” Mingyu asked. And by this, he meant _do you want to discuss the week, or do you want to watch a movie?_

Minghao ate a cookie. How Mingyu knew that ginger cookies were his favourite was beyond him. “If it was legal, I’d say grab your jacket because we’re going to city hall to get married,” Minghao said, not caring about the fact that his mouth was still half full. “Your cooking is incredible. How are you this good? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I can’t walk without bumping into things. I’m not great at math. Probably not great at dancing either,” He said. “So, plenty of things I can’t do. But I can probably dress up as Mingya and we can go get married anyway.” 

Minghao grinned widely at that. “Let’s set a date, _baby._ ” He lilted his words to imitate how Soonyoung had called Seokmin “baby” which earned him a disgusted look from Mingyu. “But can you seriously not dance?” He asked.

Mingyu shrugged, downing the rest of his wine with something akin to practiced ease. “I don’t know. I haven’t really tried.”

Minghao choked on his wine. He didn’t believe that for a second. A man as fine as this who went out almost every week hadn’t ever tried to dance sounded like a crock of horseshit. Minghao would have thought Mingyu was lying but he seemed incapable of it, which meant that he really was just oblivious to his own bodily existence. Instead of voicing that, Minghao finished his drink with a wince and stood up. “Come on. We’re going out.”

Minghao had been told about this club a few blocks from the studio by Soonyoung. It was infamous and therefore apparently packed every weekend, the arts and humanities students populating it as there was no cover if you were a member of the studio, and the DJ played deep house on Saturdays. He hadn’t ever bothered to go, never seeing the appeal of being in close quarters with too many people pressed close to one another in an imitation of dance, but as he dragged an eager Mingyu by the hand through the streets he wanted more than ever to be there. He could only imagine the how Mingyu would look, skin glistening with sweat under the dark lighting of the club, dancing to a rhythm he had built. As Minghao showed his card to the bouncer, pulling Mingyu close behind him, he became aware that this was a slippery road to ruin. He had wanted far too much when it had been just him dancing; he wondered what it would be like when they danced together.

He tried to ignore the way Mingyu gripped his hand tightly as they descended into the club, the air growing thicker and hotter. He could no longer simply hear the music—he could feel it as if the bass was in his chest. As his eyes adjusted to the scene in front of him, masses of people moving in their own ways making sense on its lonesome but in the group appeared disjointed, he looked back at Mingyu to offer a reassuring smile. This smile was returned to him and he took that as an affirmative, dragging Mingyu onto the dancefloor. Shoulders bumped, bodies clashed, and the coloured lights flickered around them as they settled in their own spot, turning to face one another. Minghao took a moment to listen to the music before beginning to dance, the moves coming to him with ease. He had to keep his movements small, preventing him from dancing the way he truly wanted to. It wasn’t his preference, but when he looked at Mingyu watching him carefully and matching his swaying, he figured it was enough. 

Minghao let Mingyu sway awkwardly on his own for a while before leaning into him close to his ear to say: “Come on. I know you’ve got more to you than that.” He curled his lips up into a coy smile, fitting his hands around Mingyu’s hips as he leaned away. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as Mingyu regarded him with wide eyes, stopping his swaying and letting Minghao’s hands guide him to follow him truly. As they both moved together, they gradually got better. He could see Mingyu’s confidence bleeding into his dancing, his arms coming up to rest on Minghao’s shoulders, fingers lazily interlocking behind his head and snagging some of his hairs, the pull making Minghao’s spine tingle. The music had shifted to something much heavier, deeper bass, a kind of sound that was full of intent, and Minghao suddenly knew why Soonyoung would come here. It was a sound they practiced to and Minghao’s eyes slipped shut, everything falling away but the dance. 

His hands fell away from Mingyu’s hips as he slowly rolled his own, contrasting his sharp movements with languid ones. He threw his head back, tracing down his own jaw, neck, and chest as brought himself from side to side. Everywhere his hands touched, a fluid move followed. He envisioned Mingyu’s hungry look from the last time he danced, putting on a show. He wanted Mingyu to know exactly how he felt, what he wanted to do, what he wanted to have done to him. He moved sensually as he opened his eyes again and looked at Mingyu. The other looked entranced, mirroring Minghao’s movements still, whatever initial awkwardness he held disappearing entirely giving way to a Mingyu who was hot and knew it. He knew what made him look good, and Minghao’s mouth went dry.

Minghao let this game play out for a while, this push and pull that Mingyu danced to, eating it like it was his last meal. His bright eyes and cute smile had shifted into an intense gaze—his eyes hooded and serious as he took the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. Minghao knew he would be good for him like this, and it made his gut tighten pleasantly. Mingyu was always so good to him.

Minghao wanted to be good for him too. 

He wanted to grab Mingyu, pull him close, and kiss down his neck. He could imagine how prettily he would keen, how he would be desperate, how he wouldn’t care where it happened so long as Minghao _marked_ him. 

This thing between them had been growing steadily for months, a dull ache of lust blossoming into a sort of need that Minghao had only heard about. He began to feel that telltale haze he slipped into around Mingyu creep up on him. In this moment, as he watched Mingyu sweat and dance for him, he knew if he didn’t get Mingyu’s weight on him he wouldn’t make it to Saturday. He needed Mingyu and he wanted him too. 

Hands came to rest on Minghao’s hips, and he rolled them into the grip, shuddering at the newfound boldness of Mingyu’s touches. Desperately wanting to put on a show, to please, he danced harder. He gave himself over to the haze, the fantasy and desire clouding his mind, leaving only the space for him to want to be good for Mingyu, the most beautiful for him. He gave it his all, knowing the power he held in his body and the way he could make himself appear. He danced and danced until Mingyu’s hands gripped hard at his shoulders and the hands on his hips remained. 

Minghao snapped out of the haze faster than he ever had before. Fuck _no_. This is why he didn’t frequent clubs. He swatted the hands away carefully as not to disturb Mingyu from the world they had built. Minghao delighted when they went away, which lasted for a second before the hands came back, bolder and more intrusive. He whipped around so fast that Mingyu barely had the chance to move his arms out of the way as to not choke Minghao. He twitched when he came face to face with a man donning a creepy smile. He wasn’t unattractive, but his actions were, and Minghao bitterly thought he might be a club classic. 

“You dance well,” He shouted. 

Minghao could feel his breath on his face and wrinkled his nose. “Thanks,” He said. 

“Want to dance with me?”

Minghao schooled his expression into something cold, a look Junhui has chastised him for using. “No thanks,” He said, honest. “I’m not interested.”

The man leaned closer, making Minghao take a step back. “Awe come on. You’re a sweet thing. Dance a little for me,” He cooed. “Then we can decide.”

Minghao went stiff, anger and fear making his blood run cold. “I said no. Fuck off.”

His grip tightened, trying to pull Minghao toward him unsuccessfully. He backed up, forcing the hands off of him with his own. He opened his mouth to lay into this guy when a deeper and familiar voice from behind him snarled, demanding and unforgiving.

“He’s mine,” Mingyu said, coming up behind Minghao, sliding an arm across his chest, and pulling them flush against each other. Minghao’s breath hitched high in his throat as he watched the other flinch at Mingyu’s presence. “And he told you to fuck off, so you better _fuck off right now._ ”

That seemed to do the trick, the guy walking away with a scowl entirely deterred. But Minghao was so focused on the feeling of Mingyu against him to really care. He felt possessive of Mingyu, the idea of belonging to him making him squirm. He was touch starved, leaning back into the touch, his head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder, his own hand coming up to hold Mingyu’s forearm firmly in place against his chest. 

Mingyu leaned down slightly to speak into his ear clearly despite the music. “I’m so sorry. You could’ve handled that without me. I just thought…” He trailed off, his breath hot against Minghao’s neck. “I didn’t mean to be so—”

“Mingyu, stop,” Minghao said. He could feel the sweat beginning to roll down his overheated skin, gathering in his collarbones, too turned on to really care. “Thank you.” He meant it.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

_Not rough enough_ , Minghao thought. “Don’t worry,” He replied. “I don’t mind you calling me yours.” He felt his skin prickle at his own words, Mingyu was silent behind him but didn’t move. Minghao took that as a sign to take the initiative, starting to sway to the music again, this time with Mingyu following without hesitation. He had only ever danced like this with his friends as a joke, but with Mingyu it was different. Every point of contact had Minghao feeling like he was being burned, body on fire. He was hot all over as their swaying got harder, Mingyu’s other hand slipping under the hem of Minghao’s shirt to push against the bare skin of his waist, the action bringing his ass fully against Mingyu. It was so much, but he was unable to stop, feeling too sensitive.  


He briefly thought Mingyu had to have done this before and felt a pang of jealousy flare up. He wanted to be the one to make Mingyu a mess in public, be made a mess of, he didn’t care and with this in mind, he reached his hand behind Mingyu’s head, encouraging him to press into Minghao’s neck. His pulse fluttered wildly against Mingyu’s lips as he panted out a breath and grinded back hard—full of purpose, intention impossible to ignore.

Minghao realized what this looked like to anyone watching and he didn’t care, too far gone at this point. There was something about the anonymity of the club that made him bold. In his mind, it was just him and Mingyu. And he wanted so much. His mind was hazy again, clouded as he continued to push back against Mingyu not even attempting to conceal the little breathy moans leaving his throat as Mingyu grinded against him, meeting every thrust. He could feel Mingyu’s breath against his jaw, groaning raggedly. 

“God, Hao,” He said right against his ear. “What do you want?” Minghao could hear the desperation in his voice and delighted in it, having felt like he had won. He didn’t answer right away, stuck on the feeling of Mingyu leaving open mouthed kisses against his skin, wherever he could reach that was exposed with his hands holding Minghao hard enough he was sure his skin had gone red under the touch. 

“You. I want you,” He finally gasped out. He meant it, maybe more than he thought he would. He had wanted this since he had seen Mingyu—it had only grown since then.

Mingyu hummed against the skin of his neck, pressing one more kiss there and letting it linger, a shiver running down Minghao’s spine in response. For once, Minghao let Mingyu lead the way, the taller lacing their fingers together as they weaved through the crowd and out of the club. He was thrumming with anticipation, waiting and wanting so badly to finally touch Mingyu, to taste him, the way he wanted to. 

He didn’t know where he was being led as they walked down moonlit streets, his patience wearing thin. He wasn’t sure he’d make it to wherever they were trying to get to before he snapped. Minghao was very close to snapping.

“My place isn’t too far from here,” Mingyu had explained when they had stepped outside and the world had sounded underwater. He had agreed without much thought, but now, as they walked a bit hastier than usual with arousal wound tight in his gut, he thought “far” was entirely subjective. 

_Fuck this,_ he thought as they passed a small darkened alley. He tugged on Mingyu’s hand, pulling him into the unlit street and shoved Mingyu harder into the brick wall that necessary. His patience had worn so thin it was fraying at the edges. His hands were balled into fists in the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt, pressed so close his knees were between the other’s legs. He craned his neck up to look at Mingyu, who had slumped against the wall looking thoroughly confused. It would have been cute had Minghao not been ready to fuck him then and there. 

“I can’t wait,” He explained.

Mingyu raised a brow, not making any other attempt to move. “I only live another block away.” 

Minghao didn’t know how to voice that if he didn’t have Mingyu in some kind of way soon he would possibly explode. Instead, he reached up a little higher to brush his nose against Mingyu’s, feeling his breath stutter out against Minghao’s mouth. Mingyu seemed to instinctively wrap an arm around Minghao’s torso, dragging him closer. “Mhm. I know,” He said, almost going cross eyed to look at him. “I don’t care.”

“Hao. Shit. You drive me crazy,” Mingyu choked out with a laugh, but brought his other hand up to Minghao’s cheek, brushing his thumb against the sensitive skin of his lip. It tingled everywhere he touched—but that might just be the Mingyu effect. The pad of Mingyu’s thumb pressed down against Minghao’s bottom lip, tugging it down slightly, and Minghao darted his tongue out to lick it before scraping his teeth over it, not missing the way Mingyu’s eyes went dark. 

He could feel Mingyu’s stuttered breath against his face and before he could talk himself out of it, he kissed Mingyu. 

The reaction was instant, Mingyu arching into the kiss, his mouth opening under the pressure letting Minghao lick into him, taste him like the starving man he was. Minghao exhaled heavily through his nose and kissed Mingyu deeply—the way he had wanted to—and delighted when Mingyu seemed to melt under his touch, so pliant, so ready to do whatever Minghao wanted. And fuck, Minghao _wanted._

He felt Mingyu’s hand work its way into his hair and tug gently at the strands causing Minghao to let out a contented hum against Mingyu’s lips. When he pulled away for air, Mingyu chased his lips with a small whine, stealing two more kisses before nestling into the crook of Minghao’s neck. He was sure Mingyu could feel his pulse racing as he huffed out a laugh. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Minghao admitted, too giddy not to. 

“I’ve wanted you to do that since I met you,” Mingyu mumbled into the skin against his neck pressing one last kiss there before letting go of Minghao. 

Minghao was surprised they made had made it to Mingyu’s building without an incident, his point of contact starting and ending with his hand in Mingyu’s. They were too impatient to take the elevator, opting to quickly clamber up the stairs. He was thankful that the apartment was only on the third floor. As they stood in front of the doorway, Minghao couldn’t help but to press one more chaste kiss against Mingyu’s lips, the other humming in satisfaction. He pulled away, smiling, matching the grin blooming on Mingyu’s face. He was beautiful like this, Minghao thought idly, all excited and nervous. Overwhelmed by the flush painting Mingyu’s cheeks and neck partially masking the red splotches Minghao had left in haste, he lined himself up against Mingyu’s back as the other turned to fiddle with the locks and began to leave small kisses against the nape of his neck and clothed shoulder. He was content to do this for a little while to pass the time, but a little while turned into a while, and concern began to filter in as Mingyu started frantically patting himself, jostling Minghao.

He pulled away. “Is everything okay?”

Mingyu made a noncommittal noise and dropped to the floor abruptly to lift his door mat, causing Minghao to take another step back. “Yeah, yes, we’re good, just give me a sec—” He said, digging through his pockets, not meeting Minghao’s eyes. “Totally fine. Not a problem. We’re alllllll good…”

Minghao, over the months they had hung out, had learned early on that Mingyu was incapable of lying successfully. “Mingyu, spit it out.”

Mingyu stopped fussing for a moment, meeting Minghao’s eyes for only a moment before dropping back to the ground, a sheepish look plastered across his face. “So,” He said. “I may have lost my keys.”

The moment of silence that followed was painful to say the least. 

“You lost your keys?” Minghao repeated slowly in disbelief. Mingyu, who was getting increasingly redder as the moments passed, had found something fascinating on the floor and refused to look at Minghao. He wasn’t mad…just…perplexed, but Mingyu seemed to not realize this as he stood there in the doorway looking like a kicked puppy. 

“How…” Minghao started, shaking his head and switched to: “Where are they?”

Mingyu looked up at him finally, appearing frustrated. “If I knew this wouldn’t be happening,” He snipped and then immediately deflated, regretful. Minghao didn’t take it to heart. “I’m sorry. They’re probably back at your place. I assumed—” He stopped, knowing they both assumed they’d be back at Minghao’s by now. 

“Oh,” Minghao said lamely. “Well, we could always go back to mine.” There wasn’t much of a choice now, he figured. He wasn’t too keen on walking another twenty minutes in the cold wind but with the mood fizzling out and a week of sleep deprivation making itself known, just getting somewhere to be horizontal sounded ideal. 

Mingyu hummed in agreement, shuffling forward to rest his head against Minghao’s shoulder. He had to bow his back to become small enough to fit into the cook of his neck and Minghao’s heart swelled at the softness of it. He wrapped his arms around Mingyu and kissed the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection for him. They swayed gently like that for a moment in the hallway, enjoying each other’s presence quietly. 

Minghao tilted down to kiss Mingyu again when the taller abruptly stood up straight clipping Minghao’s nose with his head. “Oh my god!” He shouted, looking far too awake considering his mood a few moments ago. He squished Minghao’s cheeks between his palms, puffing out his lips and undoubtedly making him look stupid in addition to his shocked expression. Mingyu smiled widely and kissed Minghao like that twice before letting go and opting to curl his hands around Minghao’s wrist instead. “Follow me!” Mingyu said, delighted. “I have an idea.”

Minghao didn’t like that, but at this point he knew he’d follow Mingyu anywhere. So, he gripped his hand and let Mingyu lead him back down the stairs and outside into the cold again. 

“Voila!” Mingyu said, gesturing to the metal staircase built into the apartment wall and entirely out of their reach. Mingyu looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Minghao looked horrified. “The fire escape?” 

“Sure is! I haven’t had to do this since first year!” He said.

Minghao blanched at that. “It doesn’t look safe.” And it didn’t. It looked as if rust had gotten the best of it some ten years prior. The paint had long since peeled off the railings giving way to the cheap metal underneath. The grating was unevenly spaced out and the security bar, if it could even be called that, had lost whatever had once secured it leaving it to sway in the wind. At best, it was decrepit, and Minghao didn’t even want to know how Mingyu planned on getting up there, because from where they were standing, it looked impossible. 

Mingyu shrugged, entirely unconcerned. “It’s not the safest but I’m only a few floors up and I know for a fact that my roommate leaves the living room window unlocked, so we’ll be able to get in without a problem,” Mingyu said and then winked. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Minghao seriously doubted that his idea of ‘no problem’ aligned with Mingyu’s, but he kept that to himself. He stood there, slightly daunted by the height and shivered at the cold wind cutting through his jacket, meant only to impress rather than keep warm, and said: “Okay. How do you want to do this?”

Mingyu smiled and crouched down on one knee in front of Minghao, tapping his shoulders. “You get on me and I’ll lift you up so you can reach.” He said simply.

Simple enough, indeed, but the idea had Minghao blushing slightly as he clambered up onto Mingyu’s shoulders, bracing himself by squeezing his thighs and threading his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. He muffled a yelp of surprise when Mingyu stood up without much effort, blushing even harder at this ridiculousness of the situation—it had to count as a bonding moment. 

“If you reach up, you can pull down the little ladder.” Mingyu said, holding Minghao steady with strong hands as he leaned back to do just that. 

“You know,” Minghao said while fiddling with the clasps, his fingers too cold to operate with any kind of effectiveness. “When I imagined you between my legs, this isn’t how I thought it would be going.”

“Oh, you thought about that?”

“Shut up.” He paused his ministrations to flick Mingyu, who let out a hearty laugh. 

“The night is young,” Mingyu said with a snort. “We still have time to fulfill all your fantasies.”

“Your dick isn’t worth this,” Minghao said, smiling despite himself. “And don’t be so crass.” He ignored Mingyu’s overdramatic gasp as the clasps finally gave way to a small ladder that only went down to Minghao’s chest. He tried to ignore the rust on the rungs of the ladder as he gripped onto it, making a mental note to wash his hands as soon as they got inside. 

“You started it,” Mingyu replied, tapping Minghao’s leg twice, signaling for him to start climbing. Once Minghao got steady on the first level, he looked down, intending to ask Mingyu how he planned to get there when he jumped up, grabbing the metal. He swung slightly, pulling himself up with his arms enough to bring his legs up underneath himself. Minghao immediately decided to look anywhere, everywhere, but the scene in front of him. He knew it wasn’t meant to be a show of strength, but it had him feeling uncomfortably warm under his coat. Mingyu climbed up to Minghao, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, grinning. Minghao twitched and muttered something about him being a show-off and looked away. He didn’t need to even see Mingyu to know he was gloating. 

The rest of the climb was done in relative silence with Mingyu leading the way and Minghao distractedly following him. He figured distracting himself from the precariousness of the metal death trap with Mingyu’s (very nice) ass was the best course of action. It proved to be effective as he only looked down twice and both times were mistakes. 

Sure enough, and much to Minghao’s happiness, Mingyu had been right about the living room window. He crawled through the small opening with his dignity hanging on by a thread and dropped to the carpet below, taking a moment to let the warmth of the apartment soak into his skin before moving to accommodate Mingyu, who slipped through the window with practiced ease. The taller shuddered, finally out of the cold, Minghao figured that he was just starting to feel the consequences of not wearing a jacket. He shuddered once again and then shut the window behind them, effectively closing them off from the sounds of the night on the streets of Seoul. 

It was quiet in his apartment. A kind of quiet that made Minghao feel the restlessness under his skin, making him either need to do something or absolutely nothing at all. He watched as Mingyu began to make his way through the room with familiarity causing Minghao to drag his gaze wherever he trailed, turning on a small lamp that bathed the room in a warm glow, fixing up some scattered papers, and started pulling dirty dishes into his arms to put into a kitchen, closed off from the rest of the humble apartment. Minghao tried not to coo when Mingyu wrinkled his nose in disgust at the shirt—his roommates, he assumed—haphazardly strewn across the couch. It was a small living room giving way to a small hallway with an entry way and presumably two bedrooms on either side. It was difficult to make out anything in the dimness of the night but Mingyu knew his home and quickly walked into the kitchen, open to the room only by means of a small cut out in the wall, depositing the dishes into the sink. Minghao tired to look around and absorb what he was seeing, little traces of Mingyu littered throughout the apartment, in the small plants in the window to the movie poster hung on the wall. He could see it in the book on the coffee table and he could see Mingyu in the way the place was tidy. It was the little things like this that made his heart grow fonder. 

“Do you want some tea?” Mingyu asked, snapping Minghao out of his thoughts. 

He scrunched up his nose in confusion. “I thought you only ever drank coffee.” 

Not for the first time, Minghao got to see the shift from confusion to recognition to embarrassment spread across Mingyu’s face as his ears went red. “I uh, I started buying tea,” He admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “Just uh, you know, in case.”

Minghao couldn’t help but to coo at that, which only made Mingyu look more embarrassed. 

“Stop it,” He said. “Do you want it or not?” 

Minghao gave him a gentle smile before shaking his head and beckoning Mingyu to come closer. Mingyu, with curious eyes, obliged. “I can think of something better than tea,” Minghao said, his tone light and teasing. 

“Like what?” Mingyu asked. He came closer and rested his hands on Minghao’s shoulders, easy as could be, a lazy smile glazing over his features. 

He hummed at that, his arms coming to wrap around Mingyu’s waist pulling him in. Minghao craned his neck up and said: “You.” 

“You’ve got some greasy lines there, pretty mullet boy,” Mingyu laughed, indulging him anyway by pressing a gentle kiss to Minghao’s lips. He kissed him chastely twice more before pulling away and saying: “I am really cold though, so I’m going to make us some tea.”

“I can keep you warm,” Minghao said, waggling his eyebrows at Mingyu, who snorted. 

“Greasy,” Mingyu repeated. 

Minghao shrugged. It didn’t bother him any. “You always say sappy shit all the time. Why can’t I?”

Mingyu made a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat and then proceeded to ignore Minghao by leaving him in the living room, unanswered. He debated being petty and pouting but as he heard Mingyu rattling around the kitchen to actually make them tea, the desire to be annoying gave way to the warmth that had been threatening to spill out of him since the beginning of the night. He stood there, dumbfounded and overwhelmed, occupying space in Mingyu’s apartment, and helplessly in love. 

_Love._

Fuck. 

_When? How?_ He stood there, occupying space, dumbfounded, overwhelmed, in love, and _panicking_. He felt it thrum under his skin making him antsy, unable to stay still. His hands twitched at his sides as he heard Mingyu clanking about in the kitchen and needed to do something. 

Minghao has never prided himself on thinking things through before acting, but he also knew that when he did things, he meant them, and had no desire to go back on his actions. So, when he found his legs carrying him toward Mingyu, he didn’t try to stop it. He walked into the kitchen startling Mingyu slightly when he turned to see him, carefully setting the mugs down on the counter as the kettle boiled loudly on the stove. 

“Hao, what—” 

The words weren’t fully out of his mouth before Minghao shoved him against the counter and kissed him. It wasn’t gentle like how it had been before—it was deep and dirty, Minghao gripping Mingyu’s waist hard enough to bruise as he licked into his mouth. Mingyu moaned, his hands immediately finding purchase in his hair and tugging hard, sucking Minghao’s lip between his teeth. When Mingyu broke away for air, Minghao couldn’t help but latch onto the skin underneath Mingyu’s jaw earning him the loudest most broken moan of the night.

“Baby, baby,” Mingyu gasped. “Why?”

Minghao groaned against his neck, his hands rucking up his shirt and slipping under the material to lay them on the muscles of his stomach. “The way you taste…” He sucked a mark into the side of his throat. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Fuck,” Was his shaky response, grabbing Minghao and dragging him up to kiss him. “Same. Baby, I want all of you.” 

Minghao shuddered. He wanted Mingyu on him, in him, anything, yesterday. He sucked in a shaky breath looking at Mingyu who’s eyes were almost completely darkened. “Unless you want me to blow you right here in your kitchen, I suggest we go somewhere else.” 

That’s all it took for Mingyu to pull Minghao up against him and lift him off the ground. Minghao wrapped his legs around his waist instinctively, reveling in the feeling of Mingyu’s arms holding him tightly as he was carried to the bedroom, the tea forgotten behind them. 

He was tossed onto the bed as soon as he was in range, Mingyu crawling over him kissing his giggle away with a smile. Minghao felt his face being cradled gently in the palms of Mingyu’s hands, the other pressing a kiss to his forehead. At Minghao’s questioning gaze, he shyly said, “Like the first time we met.” 

Minghao was lighter than air as he grinned so wide, he was sure his face was cracking. He wordlessly pulled Mingyu back down to meet his lips. It was sweet and warm and exactly what he needed, their lips gliding against each other as if they had been doing this for years. Mingyu sucked Minghao’s plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled, eliciting a whimper that Minghao didn’t think he was capable of making. Minghao could feel the other starting to grind slowly against him, a thick hardness pressing into his leg and it made his head spin. He hooked his leg around Mingyu’s waist and urged him to grind harder, ask for more, to take.

And he did. Mingyu trailed away from Minghao’s lips and began to suck marks into the side of his throat, making him twitch and shudder, as he rolled his hips hard against Minghao’s. Heat coursed through his body as sparks of pleasure shot up him and he grabbed onto Mingyu’s shirt, rucking it up so he could lay his hands flat against his sturdy chest. As he began to explore, Mingyu leaned back to shuck off his shirt, toying with the hem of Minghao’s, who silently mirrored the other’s actions. 

Minghao drank in the sight of Mingyu, shirtless and flushed down his chest. He could see the definition of his muscles as he moved to hover over Minghao once more, his jaw slack as he seemed to be watching Minghao closely too. “Stunning,” He mumbled before biting down on Minghao’s collarbone causing him to jolt up, a breathless moan escaping his lips. 

As good as this felt, he wanted to be the one to make Mingyu moan. Using his free leg, he flipped them around, Mingyu’s head landing against the pillow, a surprised look on his face, which Minghao was quick to kiss away. As he worked Mingyu’s lips, he rolled his nipples under his hands, his hips hovering above the others. Soon enough, Mingyu was whimpering against him, his hands a feather-light touch against Minghao’s hips, apprehensive and appreciative. 

“Stay the night,” Mingyu said between open mouthed kisses, pushing his hips up searching for friction. Minghao dropped his weight against Mingyu and swallowed his groan, gently circling his hips making the other clutch desperately at his shoulders. God. He loved how Mingyu seemed to come undone under the barest of Minghao’s touches. He greedily took in every noise the other made searching for ways to pull more out from him. 

He dragged himself away and began to trail little kisses down Mingyu’s neck and collarbones, letting the other writhe under his touch. He slowly kissed down his sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth as he pressed his hand boldly against Mingyu’s clothed cock. Mingyu keened loudly, bucking up into the touch and Minghao ached for friction, settling to grind slowly against the bed underneath to alleviate the pressure. He kept a steady rhythm against Mingyu, switching between pecks until the other was panting, his hands alternating between tugging at Minghao’s hair and pulling at his shoulders. 

Minghao stopped his ministrations to look up at Mingyu. Minghao vaguely registered anything around him besides the man in front of him, chest blotched and marked, lips swollen and shiny, and his head buzzed with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness. He did that. He made Mingyu look absolutely debauched. He was barely thinking as he asked, “Can I suck you off?” 

Mingyu’s cock twitched against his hand at that, and he nodded. “But only if you don’t get me off,” He said. “I want to cum when you fuck me.” 

Minghao’s breath hitched, the image of fucking Mingyu making the pool of arousal twist in his gut, and he had to physically stop from palming himself. “I can do that, baby.” He said mindlessly, kissing down his chest once more. “Be so good to you,” He kissed his ribs. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your name.” 

“Yes,” Mingyu breathed out, bucking into Minghao’s hand. “Please. Fuck, I’ll be so good for you.” 

Minghao kissed his abdomen, settling at his hipbone to teethe at the skin there as he unbuckled Mingyu’s pants. He could feel the heat radiating off of Mingyu as he mouthed at the trail of hairs leading into the band of his underwear, impatience gripping at him, only getting as far as to pull down his pants to his thighs before leaning in to mouth at the outline of his cock through his boxers. Mingyu’s hands tightened as he moaned, his dick throbbing against Minghao’s mouth as he nosed at the underside of the head. The smell of Mingyu’s musk was so intoxicating, the feel of him being exactly where Minghao wanted him so intense, that he almost missed the sound of the front door slamming shut. 

The hands in his hair tugged at him, lifting him up to look at the other, who’s blissed expression had shifted to one of panic. Minghao raised a brow at him, about to ask, when Soonyoung’s loud voice rang out, “Yo, Gyu! You home?”

Minghao froze. Mingyu’s eyes widened as he stayed silent. They waited as Soonyoung walked through the house, the paper-thin walls leaving no room to the imagination as they heard a second set of footsteps shuffling into the living room, where Minghao’s coat and shoes were. 

“Mingyuuuuu, I know you’re home!” Soonyoung called out, coming dangerously close to Mingyu’s door. “You left the kettle boiling on the stove.”

“Maybe he went to sleep.” Another voice, Seokmin, suggested.

“Unlikely.” A knock at the door. “Mingyu, I’m coming in.” 

Minghao had never moved so fast in his life, launching himself away from Mingyu to the other side of his bed, but the damage was done. Soonyoung opened up the door, a smile on his face, falling only slightly when he took in the sight of the two of them, red faced, shirtless, hard in their pants. Minghao felt dread wash over him, suddenly too cold to be shirtless, watching Soonyoung watch them, seeing as recognition dawned on his face. 

“Wow,” Soonyoung said. “It’s about time.” He leaned out into the hallway and said, “Hey Seok! You owe me five bucks! They’re fucking!”

“We _haven’t yet_.” Mingyu growled, shuffling slightly to pull his pants back up. 

Minghao desperately wanted the floor to open up and swallow them whole. Soonyoung started to laugh at that, good natured and loving, which only made Minghao want to disappear more. 

“My bad, guys. Don’t stop on our account. We’re just gonna be watching a movie anyway so you can join us after you’re done,” He said, way too smugly for Minghao’s wellbeing. “Also, you two look like you’ve been suckled by an octopus.”

“Soonie, leave them alone.” Minghao heard Seokmin say through a laugh at the same time Mingyu said “Fuck off.” 

“Alright, alright. Point taken,” Soonyoung said, backing out into the hallway. “Super happy for you both, be safe, have fun, make good choices.” As soon as the door shut, Minghao could hear them giggling to one another. 

And just like that, the fear and mortification fizzled out to an awkward silence as the dull sounds of the movie played in the background.

“So,” He started, not bothering to look at Mingyu. “You live with Soonyoung.” _As in my dance team leader slash good friend Soonyoung_ , he thought. 

“Yeah.” Mingyu rubbed his eyes in something akin to frustration, the flush decorating his cheeks no longer from arousal but embarrassment. 

Neither of them moved. Minghao began to fiddle with his ring. 

After another moment or so, Minghao sighed, turning to face Mingyu, who watched him with curious eyes. “The moment is kind of gone, isn’t it?” He asked.

Mingyu opened his mouth and then shut it, wincing when Soonyoung laughed particularly loudly at something happing in the living room. “Yeah,” He agreed. “I’ve never met someone who is such an effective cock-block.” 

“Mhm.” Minghao reached out and started fiddling with Mingyu’s hand instead of his own. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to fucking you.”

Mingyu shivered at that, lacing his fingers with Minghao’s, a gentle warmth beginning to spread through his chest at the small action. “I would say we could, but knowing those two assholes, they’re listening.” He said. 

“If the offer is still open for me to stay over, we can pick up where we left off in the morning,” Minghao said and Mingyu smiled so widely that he felt the need to shy away under so much attention. It was blinding and Minghao found himself wondering how this man so effectively wormed his way into his heart. 

“With a promise like that, how can I say no?” Mingyu asked, a shit eating grin plastered across his face. Minghao swatted his arm, too fond to think beyond this moment, complacent as Mingyu got up and began rummaging around in his drawers, tossing Minghao some sleep clothes.

As they got ready for bed, the arousal burned away and gave way to a tender atmosphere, the weariness of the week catching up to them. Minghao kissed Mingyu deeply once, just to ensure he knew, he realized it didn’t matter how Mingyu became so important to him—he simply was. Mingyu let out a sigh against him before snuggling in against one another, his head in the crook of Minghao’s neck and when Mingyu mumbled a sleepy goodnight and tightened his hold on his torso, Minghao quietly swallowed the words dancing on his tongue and opted to brush his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, whispering it in turn, both drifting to sleep shortly after. 

Minghao woke up to the feeling of being smothered by a bear. He was too warm to be under the covers and entirely trapped by Mingyu’s limbs wrapped around him. He could feel Mingyu snoring slightly against his chest and would have found it a lot more endearing if the arm nestled under Mingyu’s head hadn’t gone numb. He tried to wriggle free as gently as possible as not to disturb the sleeping man but found very quickly that that was not happening. Mingyu was like a vice around him. 

_What a problem to have_ , he mused to himself. He shifted around slightly as not to disturb the other, feeling elated as he was able to drink in the sight of a sleeping Mingyu. Mingyu had slept over at his place multiple times, sometimes both falling asleep on the couch, propped up against one another and groggily waking up before sunrise—but it was never like this. Minghao watched him blissfully, illuminated by the sun of the morning casting warm rays against his honeyed skin, and thought he might just be the luckiest person alive. Mingyu sighed heavily in his sleep, on the cusp of a snore, and Minghao was endeared by the slacked jaw expression. So much so that he reached out with his free hand to brush the stray strands of hair away from his forehead and leaned in to press a featherlight kiss there. He traced his hand down the curve of Mingyu’s face, enjoying the way he subconsciously leaned into the touch, and kept outlining the curve of his body with gentle hands until Mingyu began to awaken. 

Mingyu blinked into awareness slowly, uncurling from around Minghao briefly only to settle again, his arm thrown across Minghao’s hip while their legs tangled together. Minghao’s heart melted a little. 

“Good morning,” Mingyu said, voice raspy from disuse. 

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Like a dream,” He said. “Can I have a morning kiss?”

Minghao acquiesced, leaning in an pressing his lips against Mingyu’s still slightly swollen ones. It was soft and gentle and everything Minghao wanted from it. Mingyu hummed against him. “I like waking up to you, Hao,” He said. “I could get used to this.”

Minghao tried to keep calm. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm. Definitely,” Mingyu said, nuzzling back into Minghao’s neck, kissing his pulse. “I like you. A lot.” 

_I love you._ “I like you too. So much,” Minghao choked out. 

Mingyu looked up at him, with all the stars in his eyes as if he could see everything in Minghao’s mind, and smiled, crushing Minghao’s chances of survival. He was dizzy with the implications of this, his soul laid bare for Mingyu to see. He had remembered Junhui once saying that the beauty of human nature is that one cannot hide from the watchful gaze of another. There is no true escape of being known, and that was how Minghao felt: known. He felt known, exposed, and seen, all his layers made visible in Mingyu’s eyes and for once he didn’t feel the need to run away consuming him; he felt okay with it. 

“I like you being here with me,” Mingyu said. “My pretty mullet boy.”

Minghao was soaring. “Yours?”

“All mine,” Mingyu said and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for robbing yall of a proper smut scene  
> can hit me up on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/citruswonwoo) or [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sunenthusiast)


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